The Fine Art of Dying
by QueenTee
Summary: Michonne Campbell, a jaded burlesque dancer finds out her dream of a new life is more than she bargained for as she descends further into the vampiric underworld of a city in chaos. Will the indifferent Chancellor, Rick Grimes turn her or will he let her fend for herself?
1. You Leave Me Cold

**AN: Had another idea for a story and wanted to attempt to write it using the characters of Rick and Michonne. There are some similarities between this one and Glorybox however, I think it's different enough to be a separate story. Again, let me know what you think! If I have enough support for this one like So Gone, I will continue it as well. Happy Reading :) XOXO**

* * *

The air was tinted in a translucent fog of face powder and flecks of glitter as the dancers rushed backstage to get ready for their individual performances.

Lining her eyes in kohl, she sat and observed herself in the polished mirror. Her waist length dreadlocks tucked in and concealed under a silky black bob as she finished sweeping a thick wing across her eye, giving her a more feline appearance. She then continued to paint her full lips in a cherry-red gloss. She always loved this part; the metamorphosis into the temptress that she had created. It was a far cry from who she was in New Orleans just two years ago. After her mother passed, Michonne couldn't bear the thought of living there any longer. Everywhere she went, every street corner she turned and every face she saw, triggered a haunting memory of her mother and everyone else that she had lost. It was suffocating. So, she packed all of her possessions and set out for the great state of Georgia with only but three hundred dollars in her savings account. She didn't have much, but Atlanta offered her a fresh start. A place where she had the space to reinvent herself, and that was all she wanted. She was eager to finally kill that shy and scared little girl that she had always been known.

"There's not an empty seat in sight out there." A tall, statuesque woman leered while twirling a leather whip. "You're on in five, Kitten."

Michonne flicked her gaze from the mirror over to Madame Kali, who was dressed in a black mesh bodysuit restrained with a red leather corset and red over-the-knee stiletto boots. Michonne smirked as Kali was never modest about her admiration for the dominatrix aesthetic. She was tough as nails and the owner of Vénus en Rouge. The first person Michonne had met once she arrived in Atlanta. Kali gave her the nickname Kitten as she said she reminded her of an innocent wide-eyed cat when they first met.

Knowing she didn't have much money, Kali offered her an apartment above the cabaret rent-free as long as she agreed to fill in for one of her dancers who had left for Paris. Despite only knowing her for two years, Michonne seen her as a mother figure. Kali was poise, cultured and demanded respect. She also made it a mission of hers to embed that same self-assurance in all of her girls.

" _A woman's power is only as vast as her confidence_ " she would always say to them. Words Michonne wished her mother had passed along to her when she was a child.

"Knock 'em dead tonight, Mich!" Said a smiling woman as she brushed her damp, blue dyed curls to the back.

Michonne inched over to her panting friend and hugged her.

"You were amazing out there, Maggie."

After Michonne accepted Kali's offer, Maggie took on the job of showing her the ropes in the world of burlesque. She felt there was no one better as she was the most revered dancer at Vénus en Rouge. She performed under the alias of Trixie Royale. Her vibrant style and playful charm enraptured men everywhere. Admirers lined up for hours just to get a glimpse of her on stage. Typically, Michonne preferred to be alone but she eventually also fell victim to her lively personality.

...

"Trixie Royale setting the stage ablaze once again! I don't know about you boys" Madame Kali tantalized, brushing the leather tail of the whip gently over a man's face in the first row. "But I'm ready to be scorched by our next performer."

...

"Looks like I'm on." Michonne gripped her red feathered fan and inhaled nervously. Though she had performed regularly for over a year and a half, her nerves never ceased to calm before going on stage.

"Good luck! And don't let the man to your left throw you off-key." Maggie teased while handing her satin bustier to the stage kitten, Jessica.

Michonne tossed her a smug grin. "No one throws me off-key."

Many of the girls made a sport out of who could score the most howls and applause. Though, to their vex, the winner was always either Michonne or Maggie. At the end of the night, Michonne and Maggie kept their competition rolling by placing a wager on who could land the most handsome man in attendance and allow him the pleasure of spoiling them for the evening, the winner won the privilege of closing the show for the next weekend, which was always the most sought-after slot of the night.

"He's quite the male specimen. I'm sure I'll have him curled around my finger tonight." Maggie bit her lip in thought.

"Not if I get to him first." Michonne jested before kissing a poster of Josephine Baker and getting into position.

….

"And without further ado, welcome to the stage, Kitty La'Noirrrr!"

An eruption of shouts and whistles broke through Madame Kali's introduction as the bright lights fell dim, leaving only a faint spotlight on the stage.

The sinister opening chords of Jill Tracy's _Pulling My Insides Out_ began to play as a slow separation of the thick curtains revealed, Kitty La'Noir.

Her deep brown skin draped in leopard-print lighting by a subtle projection. Her graceful hands slid down the bars suggestively as her round hips swayed to the gritty bass. Her cat eyes coyly drifted over to the left. She was curious to see this extraordinary specimen. She took in a small gasp at the pair of opalescent blue eyes glued to her every move. His sculpted face was partly bathed in a shadow, but his pale skin and striking eyes pierced through the darkness, chillingly. He was _ungodly_ sexy.

She closed her eyes, giving into the rousing chill that traveled up her spine as her body twirled with Jill Tracy's sensual voice.

 _But, my dear, it's worth the pain. When they're pulling your insides out_.

Pivoting around the cage, Kitty La'Noir expertly recoiled her feathered fan teasing the audience with a glimpse of her shimmering brown breasts adorned with sparkling red tassels before bashfully veiling them again. She playfully batted her lashes at the crowd as roars full of vigor washed over her. She felt the audience ramping up as she slowly and methodically whirled her fan, presenting the audience with one scandalous gander after the other.

She then moved closer to the crowd, blurring out everyone else but the mysterious blue-eyed stranger. His eyes remained steady on her as his face crept out of the darkness. Her lips parted as she scanned over his auburn beard inundated with flecks of silver as it ascended over a defined jawline. His hair was a sea of glossy dark brown waves that framed his face perfectly. She felt her knees go weak as a glint of want flashed in his cold unyielding eyes. Her cherry lips turning up into a lascivious smile as she began lowering the red feather fan achingly low. Shrieks of men in the crowd grew louder as they anticipated an eyeful of her beautiful body in all its glory before she turned around shily.

Red light danced across her figure, seizing the suppleness of her movements as she continued to spin and twist her body in the most elegant ways before the curtains slowly began to gather back together. She graciously bowed and blew the adoring audience a flirty kiss while peering over the mysterious man, slowly giving her his applause.

Michonne inhaled as the curtains came to a full close, blanketing her in blackness as she tried to catch her breath.

Madame Kali winked at her from the side of the stage before sauntering back to the excited crowd. "We might have to douse you all down after that red-hot performance. Whew!" The audience's applause and whistles grew louder.

"Let's hear it one more time for Kitty La'Noir!

….

Michonne ambled down the long hallway and back into the changing room, feeling electrified by the audience and even more so by the beautiful stranger whose eyes still haunted her. They weren't like any she had seen before. They weren't just blue, but an unnaturally vivid blue.

She eventually snapped out of her thoughts and removed her sleek wig causing her long locs to cascade down her back before unlocking her locker.

"So..." Maggie dragged her words as she came from behind the lockers dressed in her usual rocker chic attire. Pressing herself against the cold lockers, a sly smirk spread across her rosy lips. "Did you see him?"

Michonne flickered her a knowing smile before peeling off her glittered nipple tassels. "Who is he?"

"No idea. Maybe he's visiting or something." Maggie pondered aloud. "He doesn't look like any man I've ever seen in Atlanta." She added.

"His probably from Romania or somewhere like that." A blonde woman interjected, matter-of-factly.

"Would you please, just stop, Britney?" Maggie intoned as she rolled her eyes, annoyingly.

Ever since the recent uptick of murders in the city, Britney had convinced herself that it must be the doing of vampires since most of the bodies were found drained of blood and torn apart.

"I'm serious! Did you see his eyes? It was like staring into the devil himself." Britney paused, falling deeper into her thoughts as she tightened a hold on the cross of her gold necklace.

"Britney, with all of the shit going on in this city lately, vampires would be the least of my worries." Michonne said pulling a black crop top over her head.

For the past few months, the busy metropolis of Atlanta had descended into a free fall of chaos and decay. Corrupt politicians and overbearing police officers had begun to run amok causing the city to quickly erode into a ghost of its former self. Growing levels of poverty and anarchists soon followed, resulting in a significant exodus of people who could afford to flee to a better city. And those that couldn't, did their best to stay to themselves and out of harm's way.

From time to time, Michonne mulled over how Kali was able to withstand the increasing property taxes for Vénus en Rouge especially since they were only getting a fraction of the customers they used to.

"Well suit yourself." Britney's high-pitched voice broke through Michonne's depressing thoughts.

"Just remember to protect yourself, ladies. God, only knows what's lurking out there." She retrieved a can of mace from her snakeskin purse and walked out of the locker room leaving the two women behind with her words of advice.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to get a weapon, just in case." Maggie swallowed, digesting Britney's warning.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea." Michonne seconded. "Hey, wanna go have a few drinks downtown, my treat?" She tried to shake the uneasy feeling creeping over her by changing the topic.

"Cant." Maggie dropped her head disappointingly and answered. "I gotta get up early tomorrow and work. Sherry called off…again and now I'm stuck with her shift."

"That's the third time this week. Did she quit or something?" Michonne furrowed her brows, puzzled.

"Probably. I mean everyone else is. The city's going to shit." Maggie let out a saddened breath and took out a pack of cigarettes.

"I'll come by and keep you company then." Michonne smiled as she knew how much she hated working morning shifts.

"Aww! Look at you, being a good friend." Maggie smirked as she blew out a circle of smoke.

"You know what, never mind. I take it back." Michonne glared over to her and shook her head.

The two laughed and then gave each other a comforting hug goodbye before parting ways for the night.

…

Michonne gathered her bags and strolled down to the elevators. She checked her phone for any missed messages as she stood in front of the pristine gold elevator, preparing to press the illuminated-up button. Her heavy lids drifted down the hall of the changing room out of boredom as her body fell frozen by the sight of Kali beckoning in that blue-eyed stranger in the crowd over and into her back office.

* * *

 **The Next Morning**

The heavy scent of rain hung in the cold air along with Michonne's condensed breath as she walked through the graffitied streets that used to be full of life and thriving businesses but now only resembled a boulevard of lost hopes. The sheet of grey clouds deepened to a menacing steel as the orange glow of morning was obscured from view. She rarely woke up early enough to see what the city was like in the mornings but the lingering images of Kali in her office with that mysterious man refused to leave her mind. She stayed up for most of the night asking herself a barrage of unsettling questions.

 _Was Kali involved in an underground criminal world? Was she trafficking some of the dancers in exchange for money?_

Michonne's stomach churned in panic as she quickened her pace on the rain-kissed sidewalk. Wrapping herself tightly for warmth in her black fur coat, she stopped as a speeding yellow taxi ceased midway in the street allowing her to cross.

She continued her stroll as her thoughts turned to Maggie. She didn't text Maggie about it last night as she knew it would probably distract her as much as it did her. She figured it would be best to allow her to get a full night's rest for work. Maggie made a decent amount of money from performing but it wasn't enough to provide for herself and her father who recently fell ill and could no longer work on the farm. So, whatever extra money she made from working at the small coffee shop, she would send to him. It wasn't much but she was sure it would at least cover a few bothersome bills.

...

Michonne released a cold breath of relief as she recognized a old abandoned Cracker Barrel. She was only about a block away now.

As Michonne turned a dark corner, she jumped at the blood curdling cry of a woman in pain with a man hunched over her.

Michonne's skin went taut as she stood unable to breathe, it felt as if a powerful hand gripped her throat and began choking her. Her heart was racing and all she wanted to do was run for her life but a shock of adrenaline rushed through her veins. In a split second, she reached down into the pocket of her distressed black jeans and withdrew a sharp steel knife and sank it into the back of the man. She pressed and twisted it deeper into his broken skin, hoping to cause maximum damage.

Her eyes widened in paralyzing fear as she noticed the lifeless woman lying with an abundance of bright red blood seeping onto the smooth concrete was Britney.

The crazed man swung around and rapidly shoved Michonne off him and onto the cold ground with an incredible force. She struggled to find another weapon as his glaring yellow eyes now drew in on her. Michonne cried for help as he slowly inched toward her, his mouth teeming with fresh blood. She closed her eyes knowing no one was around to save her and this was how her life would end before a low grunt caused her eyes to shoot open. He slumped over her, his intestines exposed as a tall man dressed in a police uniform stood over him. He took out a handkerchief, gentlemanly wiping the dark blood from his hand before extending it out, still stained in the man's blood.

Trembling in terror, Michonne cautiously grabbed the strange man's hand and pulled herself up from the crouching position.

"You should be more careful out in these parts, Darling." The man's voice was shockingly calm and unbothered.

Michonne bent down, resting her hands on her knees, allowing herself to catch her breath for another second.

"Tha…Thank you." She raised her head and gazed at the man whose eyes glowed similar the mysterious man in the audience however, his glistened a pale brown instead of a frozen blue.

"Wha. What the fuck is-?" Michonne tried to form her thoughts into words but her racing mind prevented her from doing so.

He let out a tired breath. "You witnessed a deadly robbery but luckily I was able to stop the fucker before he got to you next." His voice was reassuring and cold.

"But, his eyes…and yours." Michonne paused replaying everything that just happened in her mind.

"He wasn't human." She looked up at him worriedly as a entertained but ominous smirk spread across his dark features.

"You witnessed a murder and was knocked unconscious before I arrived on the scene."

His deep voice fell lower and more demanding as his luminous eyes penetrated her psyche.

Beneath her feet the hard concrete turned to a soft ripple as she felt herself slipping from reality and into a murky blur. It was a void where only his words echoed inside her head, repeatedly. Her mind lost all direction as it continued to swirl into nothingness with her breaths becoming shallower.

….

 **Across town**

Ivy and ferns grew through the crevices of the old winding pebble path, which led directly to the colossal centuries old plantation. It loomed over vast acres and hills that used to be cultivated for sugarcane and tobacco but now was turned into a wine vineyard. History blew in the wind as it whispered unspeakable horrors along with stories of spirited revolts in American antiquity.

He could smell the sweet hint of magnolia infused with rain as he withdrew from a shaded quarter of the antebellum mansion. His crystal blue eyes cutting through the dark of the room as he stayed fixed on the television displaying the local news.

 _We have a reporter on the ground now with a woman who witnessed this gruesome act._

Rick's eyes grew darker as he recognized the beautiful dark-skinned woman recalling what had happened to her earlier this morning. His eyes then shifted over to Negan, who stood beside her with a concerned expression plastered on his face as he rubbed her back in support.

 _I saw a lady getting robbed and I tried to help her but..but. I can't remember anything else. Luckily, this man was here to save me._

A buzzing vibration forced him out of his scattered thoughts as he peered down at Madame Kali's number. He took in a strained breath as he presumed she was calling to question him again about another one of her girls falling prey to a roaming feral.


	2. Summoned

**The Next Day**

The doorbell buzzed again as Michonne forced her bloodshot eyes open. Her sight partially hindered by brown disheveled dreadlocks and the crushing pain of a migraine. Last night, the notion of drinking away the delusions of Britney seemed like a good idea, but the waves of nausea made her feel otherwise.

Eventually, Michonne unraveled from the thick duvet and drew herself off the cluttered platform bed. Her heavy eyelids raised half way as she eyed over Alejandro still deep in slumber. She nearly rolled her eyes at the sight of him before reaching over and tapping his bare shoulder to wake up.

Fumbling over the scattered clothes on the floor, Michonne's eyesight struggled to cope with the bright daylight peeking through the Venetian blinds as she answered the door.

"Took you long enough. I was starting to send for a search team." Scoffed Maggie, her red lips drawing into a playful smile. "I bare gifts this morning."

The nutty and sobering aroma of coffee filled Michonne's nostrils as her tired eyes scanned over the two venti cups of hot coffee and a small pack of her favorite glazed donuts from the nearby convenience store.

"The coffee and donuts can come in." Michonne sneered, sarcastically.

Maggie shifted her weight to one side and narrowed her eyes. "Glad to know you're back to your old bitchy self. "She paused, taking a moment to gaze over the lanky Latino fastening his jeans.

"Hope I didn't interrupt." Said Maggie slyly, her smirk growing tighter.

Michonne tossed her a knowing glare. "He was just leaving."

Slightly embarrassed, Alejandro stroked his short black hair before inching to Michonne. He leaned in, wrapping his long arm around the small of her back and kissed her cheek tenderly.

"See you again tonight?"

She took in his square jaw, dark eyes and arrogant expression. If there was one thing that turned her off, it was an overly confident man that assumed his looks were sufficient enough to make a woman fall to her knees.

Vénus en Rouge not only gave her a new sense of self but a nearly endless supply of hungry men. During the past few months, she begun to grow apathetic to the try hard sweet-talks and clichéd pick-up lines. In the end, they all wanted the same thing, and eventually she did as well. Men became nothing more but a hobby of hers after shows or whenever she felt the need to quench a thirst. She yearned for something _different_. Alejandro was attractive but too simple her taste. He was a conventional pretty boy who thought the universe revolved around him. He had the ability to make every topic of a conversation somehow spun back to him. Which was impressive she thought, considering there was little about him that was original or exciting enough to be discussion worthy. Nonetheless, he provided her with the solace she needed for the night.

She let her eyes fall over him once more before tuning into his voice.

"So, what do you say?" He stared down on her, anticipating her agreement.

She met up with his dark eyes, taking a moment to moisten her lips, dropping her gaze.

"I had a good time last night." She writhed herself from the embrace and drew closer to the door. "But I don't think so."

Alejandro's smug grin weakened into a disappointed frown, his pride reeling from a devastating blow. He chewed at his lip, giving himself a minute to absorb the brutally honest answer. He felt as if a part of his brain had malfunctioned. Rarely did any woman turn him down especially when he brought up the hint of sex. He soon gathered his shirt and dignity off the floor, tossing her one last scowl before walking out the door.

Maggie's prying eyes followed his departure before resting the pack of donuts on a table. She flopped herself on top of the messy bed, crossing her legs and recovering a pack of cigarettes from her bomber jacket. "Mind if I smoke in here? I had a long morning."

"Yes." Answered Michonne dully as she searched through the nightstand drawer for painkillers.

Maggie let out a huff as she placed the pack of Marlboros back inside her leather jacket and reached for a donut instead.

Her eyes wandered over the room aimlessly before fixing on her friend's favorite necklace that was adorned with cowrie shells. "Where did you get that?" She mused aloud.

Michonne touched her choker necklace and gazed over a picture of her grandma on the nightstand. A regal looking woman who sat with a demure smile and tall orange headwrap that bared the Veve symbol.

"My grandmother made it for me." She said wanly before tipping her head back and swallowing the pain relievers.

Maggie mulled over what her family must've been like. Albeit, they were good friends, she barely knew much about her life outside of burlesque and Atlanta.

Maggie's thoughts then drifting off to Madame Kali.

"You think Kali's involved with the mafia?" Maggie thought aloud. "She always gave off that kind of vibe to me." She added, half-jokingly.

Michonne paused momentarily, feeling a pinch of regret wash over her. Perhaps it was the countless shots of tequila last night, but she had forgotten she even told her about Kali and the blue-eyed stranger. Though Kali's behavior was suspicious, Michonne grew to trust her and the aching thought of her being involved in such activities made her feel even more sick.

"I don't know."

Maggie cut her eyes back to Michonne, sensing an unsettling distance from her friend. She was secretly hoping their banter would prove a good distraction, but things still felt somber. It wasn't like Michonne to give such brief responses and not engage in gossip. Her green orbs then began to swell with worry as she reflected on how traumatizing it must be for her friend to carry around those visions of Britney's attack.

"Michonne." A soft whisper escaped her lips. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Maggie's green eyes fixed on her, attentively.

The upsetting events of yesterday hung over them like a heavy dark cloud.

"Yeah. I know." Michonne smiled weakly at her friend. "I just need one of these donuts." She deterred, wanting the conversation to steer away from yesterday.

Maggie's brows furrowed in deep thought as she nodded her head. She knew that Michonne was trying to avoid the ordeal, so she swallowed the urge to bring it up and resumed savoring the sugary dessert.

* * *

 **Somewhere Over Maryland**

Wings of an Embraer Legacy sliced through grey clouds, soaring swiftly across the bedimming sky. The small window slots of the plane were shrouded with thick black screens, purposely blocking out the last sun-rays of the day as dusk rolled over into night.

Inside his lavish cabin, Rick clinched his jaw in annoyance while flicking through several news stations each one recapping the same news story from yesterday.

"This is how you divert attention?" He gritted his teeth, shifting his burning blue eyes from the plasma screen to Negan.

"I did what I had to." Said Negan without meeting his chastening eyes. "She knew the feral wasn't a human."

Ferals were vampires gone rogue. Zombie-like creatures who were completely devoid of any consciousness and the ability to control their thirst for human blood. The creation of a feral was only possible by the abandonment of a siring vampire. As directed by the council, a vampire was beholden to share a coffin with their progeny until the dying human was fully resurrected as a vampire.

Despite Rick's efforts to maintain the feral population, the uptick of attacks continued. Pushing the city toward the brink of anarchy and widespread paranoia. The unusually high concentration of ferals in Atlanta soon drew the attention of the Council, who now requested a quarterly in-person progress report of the city. And tonight, they expected another update.

A small laugh escaped Rick's lips exposing his razor-sharp canine teeth. "What do you plan to do once your lure fades?" His drawl was hard and mocking. "Sooner or later, she'll remember. And I'll be forced to, yet again explain this to the council."

"I'll get rid of her. That was my plan from the start." Negan shrugged. "Unfortunately, I didn't have the time. Her blue-haired comrade would've seen." He took a large swig of blood. "So, I improvised."

After being appointed to Chief of Police, Negan took on the responsibility of overseeing the city's vampire population and eliminating any risk that threatened the pact of secrecy especially ferals. Once he found the vampires responsible for their creation, he brought them to Rick for judgement, which was usually death.

Rick's brows dropped. His stern expression withering into a meditative one. "Her face is all over the news now." He motioned to the large screen. "She's too recognizable.

"If anything happened to her, it would too easily spark a city uproar. Something we can't afford right now."

Negan's brows drew closer, causing the wrinkles on his forehead to deepen. "So, what do you want me to do with her then?"

Rick leaned back in the soft leather seat, taking in a moment of clarity. "Let me handle it. You've done enough already."

"Exactly thirty minutes until we reach New York, sir." The bitten blonde whispered over his shoulder.

* * *

 **Back in Atlanta**

The pungent smell of alcohol and cigars wafted in the air as Michonne and Maggie descended downstairs and into the barely-lit lounge under Vénus en Rouge. The bunker was rumored to had been created in the early 1930s as a hideout for Mae Capone after her husband was sent to the federal pen. Michonne was always skeptical of that. As its only purpose now was a den for debauchery after every show.

Cutting their way through the crowd of intoxicated patrons, Michonne scanned over Britney's closest friends. Each one with an ember of grief in their eyes. Their conversations weakened as the rest of the crowd followed her and Maggie over to the bar.

An awkward second passed before a short brunette sauntered from within the crowd and over to the bar with them. She ran her manicured nails across the alumilited oak bar top

"You alright, Kitty?"

Michonne stared up. There was kindness in Christina's smile, a gentleness that she rarely showed to anyone.

"Yeah." Michonne said in a quiet tone. "Thanks."

"Hey cutie pie." Christina rolled her gaze over to the chubby, hipster looking bartender. "Get this one a double on me, will you?" She turned back, intentionally snubbing Maggie beside her.

Maggie glared over to Christina with contempt in her eyes. They had been sworn rivals ever since the infamous shampoo incident.

Before her first show, Maggie sat in her designated beauty station and begun prepping her long highlighted brown hair, but to her horror, she soon found out that someone had spiked her blow-drying spray with blue dye. And no one other than Christina, found it side-splittingly funny.

Surprisingly, the mean-spirited prank backfired on Christina as the crowd ended up loving it. Soon after, Maggie adopted the flamboyant hair color as her signature look.

…

Forty minutes and two double shots later, Michonne strolled over to a quieter corner of the tavern, flopping into a comfy futon. She was tired but didn't feel the need to go home yet. She had nothing else to distract herself with, and especially now that Madame Kali had given everyone the weekend off to mourn Britney.

Swirling the rum in her glass, she felt a man's eyes burning a hole into the side of her face.

"Can I help you with somethin?" She turned her head and eyed the stranger.

"Michonne, right?" He probed, his mesmerizing hazel eyes peering from under wild dirty-blond hair.

She lowered her brows, confused how he knew her name. Very few people outside of Vénus en Rouge knew her real name and she didn't recall ever seeing his face before.

"If you're a reporter, I don't want to fuckin talk about it anymore." She sneered, fed up with having to revisit the trauma of yesterday.

"I'm not a reporter." He let out a soft laugh. "Seen you on the news."

"Oh." She breathed, her defensive eyes starting to wane. Michonne cocked her head to the side and searched his handsome face curiously. His eyes were a mesmerizing caramel mixed with forest green.

"Well...I still don't want to talk about it." She swallowed.

"I don't blame you." He huffed, bringing a glass of whiskey to his slender lips. "This city is full of unspeakable shit."

"And you are?" She asked, paying close attention to his eyes and body language.

"Soren." He flashed her a slight smile and reached out to properly introduce himself.

Michonne glanced over his hand hesitantly for a moment before ultimately placing her hands in his.

* * *

 **1,075 Miles Away**

The Spanish Fortress sat on a steep hill within the Adirondacks, towering over a lush green forest and a vast moonlit lake. The Alcazar stood as an extension of Marqués' ego, as it made no attempt to camouflage itself within the idyllic uplands. The white-silver glow of the moon made it appear even more immaculate as if it had fell from the heavens above. However, looming closer, the tall plateresque walls told the story of withering and cede. A perfect depiction of the man who lived inside.

…

Rick and Negan waited as the wooden medieval doors ascended, soon revealing an exquisite space, to say the least. Rick took in a heavy breath. If his human emotions weren't such a distant memory, he could've sworn he felt a sense of anxiety wash over him. It had been three months since his last meeting with Marqués and yet things have only stayed the same. Ferals still roamed the city causing even more humans to resort to conspiracy theories and speculations of vampires.

"How nice to see you again, Chancellor." Marqués stretched out a delicate tan hand, beckoning the two men to the elaborately decorated table, his silky Spanish accent echoing off the marble walls. He carried the mannerisms of a Renaissance lord, though he was draped in the latest haute couture.

"Marqués." Rick nodded before circling around the grand table, the pristine silver cutlery already laid out beside empty crystal wine glasses.

"I am looking forward to your update." He dragged on his words, tracking a beautiful long-haired man leisurely walking over to the table. "Come and sit beside me, Jesus." His voice fell low but commanding.

A noble looking woman shifted her cinnamon eyes over to Marqués. The irritation was not easily hidden on her innocent face. "Must you do this at the table." She whined and scanned over the guests embarrassedly.

The masterful black-haired vampire looked on at his daywalker, ignoring her frustrated glare. "Must you spoil every splendor, Freya." He flicked his hand feebly.

Rick cleared his throat impatiently. "There have been five more feral attacks since the last update." He paused, shifting his dimmer cobalt eyes to the side.

"And I don't feel that we're any closer to finding the vampires responsible for them." He spoke with honesty laced in his deep southern drawl.

"I'm keeping a record of every siring vampire. Hopefully, that'll assist us in finding the source of these attacks." Negan ensured, searching Rick and Marqués for approval.

Marqués let his bored eyes roll up Negan's rugged face. "Sufficient enough, I guess." He concurred briefly. "What of your relations with the humans in your city." He asked, shifting his hungry eyes back to Jesus.

"Relations to the humans?" Rick questioned, his eyebrows creased in bewilderment. Vampire and human relations was never a factor that concerned him. He mostly seen them as nothing more but annoyingly destructive creatures that provided him with a good source of food and assistance in the daylight hours.

"It may be important from this time forward." A small smile played on Marqués' lips. "Prime Council and I, are considering the option of eliminating the Pact of Secrecy."

The long table grew silent as a wave of shock stunned the guests.

Rick rested his head in his hands, concealing the anger that flexed in his jaws. "We shouldn't take chances like this."

Marqués turned his inquisitive gaze over to Rick.

"The humans of today are more tolerant than any of those I've known before." He roared, shedding his composed demeanor.

"They have already accepted apparitions, witches so why not us as well. Hiding in the shadows is only making their suspicions grow more dangerous. We should show them we mean no harm if they wish to cooperate."

"They won't. Humans suffer from the disability of sadism." Answered Freya in a quiet tone. "They kill what they fear."

"Do we not kill?" Marqués questioned sharply.

"We kill out of survival. Not fear." Rick interjected. "This is only making us more of a target."

"In three days' time we will make our decision." Marqués cut through their objections. "Now, no more." His cavernous voice vibrated over the table, ending the heated discussion.

Rick tilt his head in irritation at the thought of having to play nice with humans before slowly raising himself from the embellished table.

Following Rick and Negan out of the dark lair, Marqués let out a satisfying breath before piercing down on Jesus' wrist, drawing the delectable red liquid that he had been yearning for.

* * *

 **Back in Atlanta and Three Hours Later**

Madame Kali eyed Rick intensely as she leaned against the glass of her office desk. "I cannot have this happening again. My business is suffering as well as my girls."

Like all other vampires in the south, Kali was required to pay a tax to the Chancellor in exchange for protection and a weekly delivery of fresh blood. It was a system utilized to ensure the preservation of the vampire race. Providing them with the nutrition they needed, in case some were not able to feed.

"I assure you this will be the last time." He said, his voice deadly calm. "But I didn't come here to discuss the attacks."

"What else? "Asked Kali curiously. "I can't imagine anything else worthier." She crossed her arms stubbornly.

Rick fell silent for a moment before his face grew more serious, dropping his drawl to a lower pitch.

"I want Michonne."

Kali swallowed as though she was having trouble getting her words out. "I- I cannot give you her." She protested. "She is one of my best performers and you have a terrible habit of killing your daywalkers."

Rick grunted, unwilling to accept this as an answer. "I'll keep her safe." He veered his eyes from her. " You have my word."

"You better." Kali let out a defeated breath.

He swung his icy eyes back to her with offense and leered down at her. His jaws stiffened as he drew closer. "I don't take well to idle threats, Ms. Patel."

Rendered motionless under the intensity of his now lit blue eyes, she felt a tightness in the back of her throat. "Sorry, sir."

Breaking from his hold of her, his burning eyes reduced as he reached into his coat for two envelopes. "Give her this." He handed her one of the envelopes.

"And this one, for your compliance." He tossed the other on the desk.

* * *

 **Later That Night**

"What now?" Michonne gritted out before reluctantly uncovering her face from under the soft sheets. She rubbed her knuckles onto her eyes before peering out of her third story window. The sky was still a canvas of dull black.

She eventually picked herself off the queen size bed, dragging her feet over to the door. Cracking it slowly, her sleepy eyes widened as she was taken aback by the sight of Madame Kali.

"Kali? It's like 3am." She whispered, her voice raspier than usual.

"Take this." Kali said distantly as she passed her the white envelope. "I need you to assist one of my business partners."

Michonne scanned over the envelope suspiciously. "Kali, is this some sort of drug deal?" She let out, no longer able to suppress her worrying thoughts.

"Of course not." Kali snapped amusingly. Her naïve question causing a faint smirk to play on her black painted lips. "It's more of a job offer. He needs somewhat of a personal assistant." She explained.

"Oh." Michonne's suspicion soon turned to interest as she mulled over the prospect of making extra money. "How much is he paying? I'm not doing this out of the goodness in my heart." She said sternly.

"All the details are in there." Kali gestured toward the envelope and let out a breath."Sleep on it, Kitty." She placed a comforting hand on her shoulder before leaving.

Michonne fell silent as her curious brown eyes followed her down the hall. She swallowed, looking over to the name Rick Grimes imprinted at the corner.


	3. I Put a Spell on You

Pulling herself toward the edge of the bed, Michonne drew a deep, shuddering breath.

 _Fuck._

She massaged her temples with the hope of calming herself down. It wasn't Kali's random visit that kept sleep from her this time, but the same stubborn hallucination of Britney watching her with a pair of glowing eyes and blood seeping from her neck. Pain relievers dulled her aching migraine but did nothing to stop the distracting delusions.

Michonne winced as a blinding flood of visions washed over her, causing her to stagger into the bathroom. She felt a sickening mix of helplessness and anticipation; something she thought she had learned to control since moving to Atlanta.

Apprehensive of what she would see, Michonne placed her trembling hands onto the cold granite counter for support before reluctantly staring into the mirror. Gazing at her reflection, a pair of menacing black eyes drilled back at her. They were like two gleaming stones of onyx, lit up by small streaks of violet in the iris. The same unique color that both her mother and grandmother bared while plunging into the spirit realm.

Closing her bewitching black eyes, she rubbed them ferociously with the heels of her palms.

 _Not again._

For more than two-years, Michonne had mastered the skill of numbing her nerves and suppressing her family's curse, or gift depending on the way others perceived it. However, something about this time felt different to her.

As a child, Michonne spent most of her nights after school with her grandmother, Coffey learning all about the rich history and influence of Conjure passed down from generations. It was said her family came from a long line of powerful shamans going as far back as the first mass of Africans that were forced to set their shackled feet upon the shores of Virginia. She savored the nights of climbing out of her bedroom window to explore the forbidden French Quarter streets and over to the little home that sat on the banks of the Mississippi River. It was a welcomed break from her mother's religious ramblings. Whilst, plaiting her grandmother's delicate coils, she eagerly listened to stories of mischievous spirits and the art of necromancy. Something her mother once did before converting to Catholicism and believing all rootwork was sinful and the working of Satan.

As time went on, Michonne's sense of duty to carry on the family tradition died alongside her grandmother and then mother. Though, she still performed small rituals on the side to assist her in the things she wanted or needed, presumably out of habit or desperation.

Drawing in another deep breath, she timidly opened one eye before the other, and as if the gods themselves had heard her thoughts, her eyes had returned to their normal shade of the darkest brown.

* * *

 **Three Days Later**

Awake before the first rays of sunlight, Michonne sprinkled in a handful of cinnamon and pinch of cascarilla for luck and protection in the half-filled bathtub. Slowly placing one foot before the other, she glided into the silky water. Instantly, she felt her drowsy body relax against the roman tub.

After three days of deliberating, she had finally succumbed to Rick's offer.

Three-thousand dollars per week was tempting, to say the least. Almost too good to be true, she thought to herself while dangling the job letter over her candlelit face, once again, scanning over the time and address. With that kind of money coming in, it would take her no time to save and eventually move out of the city, possibly even travel to France like her idol, Josephine Baker.

Michonne sat the letter down, baring a bright grin at the possibility of performing in the Theatre des Champs-Elysees. Cheerfully squealing to herself, she sank further down in the tub, submerging her head and drowning out all of the sounds around her.

 _Perhaps, the prosperity spell wasn't a waste of time after all_.

She deduced underwater, her thoughts soon reeling toward Rick Grimes and what sort of man he could possibly be.

 _Was he an old perverted, balding man in an ill-fitted suit or some young, insufferably rich brat with money to burn?_

She mulled over the endless possibilities of her future boss before uncovering her head, her long dreads heavy with lukewarm water.

….

Despite only four hours of sleep, Michonne felt peculiarly energized. Slipping into a red blouse and her favorite hip hugging jeans she'd set aside earlier, she ran back over to the mirror to double check her makeup. She traced back over the neat eyeliner just a tad more to perfect her cat eye. If she was going to be someone's personal assistant, she was going to be a sexy one. She smirked to herself, tossing the eyeliner pen in her purse before grabbing her keys and withdrawing from the cozy studio apartment.

…..

From the cabaret, it was a thirty-minute drive into King's County. Michonne swallowed, her mouth feeling suddenly dry as she pulled into a long winding driveway. The car engine growled down the bumpy road as she peered out the window, completely in awe of the southern gothic landscape. The live oaks were swathed in Spanish moss as they wilted over the lonely graveled road, leading to a massive antebellum estate. Her stomach churned while reflecting on the dark history associated with plantation homes.

Removing her black aviators, Michonne withdrew from the older coupe and gazed over the towering entry. A burnt orange hue spread across the sky as the sun slowly roused to life.

Drawing a breath of humid air, she allowed herself another moment for composure before strolling onto the front porch and gently knocking on the door. With just the smallest effort, the door swung open like if it was left partly agape on purpose. The creaking noise made her blood run cold as she stepped inside.

The dull light of morning seemed to faint out of existence as darkness engulfed her inside the grand entrance like the thick velvet curtains on stage. Michonne let her eyes wander over the grandeur of the staircase and old western memorabilia scattered throughout the walls before locking on a silver Colt Python locked away in a pristine glass case. She inched closer for a better look as a heavy southern drawl jolted her back into the present.

"You're late." A voice of velvet echoed throughout the vaulted foyer.

"How'd you know I'd even agree to this?" Her eyes roamed the room for the source of that arousing accent. "I don't remember making any promises." She continued, defiantly.

"You can say I'm a very good judge of character." Said Rick in the smokiest, most alluring tone Michonne had ever heard. The subtle sound of his footsteps above her head teased her ears as she followed the direction of his voice.

"So…What do you need a personal assistant for?" She questioned, one hand clutching the bannister as she pulled herself up the steps. "Coffee runs and dry cleaning?" She added, her voice laced in sarcasm.

A deafening silence caressed her skin like a cool breeze as she cautiously sauntered up and into a elegant study. Michonne's breath caught in her throat as her body stilled by the intensity of his blue gaze ensnaring her attention.

 _It's him._

The blue-eyed stranger from Kali's office sat nonchalantly behind a large encompassing desk. His wavy brown hair brushed back, curling behind his ears.

He was beautiful in a way that drew you in but something about him reminded her of a fully mature lion that'd lure in prey by its beauty just to strike and sink its teeth into whomever came too close.

Rick scanned over her delicate face for a reaction, but silence continued to linger in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground.

"I have no use for coffee and I can manage my own dry cleaning." His eyes pierced through her, unwavering. "You have read all of the conditions for this position, I assume." His gaze hardened, watching her every move and every tick in her face.

Swallowing down the dryness in her throat, she inched closer and feigned an attempt at a calm demeanor. "Yes." She answered, her voice a faint whisper as he eased himself out of the chair, walking around the desk and ceasing inches from her.

"Good." His cool gaze penetrated that of her warm brown eyes as he added,"- I also assume you know those dreams of yours are not delusions, Ms. Campbell."

He placed a thick emphasis on her surname, causing a shudder of unknown reason to travel through her.

Michonne furrowed her brow in uttering disbelief. "How do you know about my dreams?"

A subtle smile graced his pouty lips, curling up at her noticeable discomfort. "It happens to every human that is lured by a vampire."

She felt her lungs tighten at his words. Even though she sensed the man who killed Britney and the officer who saved her may have been something other than human, hearing the word vampire hit her harder than a crushing wave.

"Are you going to kill me?" She looked up and studied his obscenely attractive features for a response.

He let his eyes linger over her sensual frame and plump lips before corking a brow at her question. He anticipated for her to scream, run or even dissolve into tears, but she did none of those things.

"I have no interest in harming you unless you give me a reason to." He paused for a tense moment. "Besides, I need your presence in New York tonight."


End file.
